


hammer blow

by rhymeswithpi



Series: limit break [18]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Hangover, Introspection, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, POV Multiple, Touch Aversion, iggy is a bit of a mess, noct is just confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithpi/pseuds/rhymeswithpi
Summary: It starts with a hangover, and Ignis wouldliketo pretend it gets better from there.His head feels like he’s gone ten rounds with a behemoth while armed only with a butter knife.





	hammer blow

**Author's Note:**

> Ignis has some intrusive thoughts here, but like most intrusive thoughts he doesn't really MEAN it and has no intention of following through. Just in case that's something you don't want to read/involve yourself with.

His head feels like he’s gone ten rounds with a behemoth while armed only with a butter knife. He hasn’t felt this awful in  _ ages _ , not since the time Gladio had convinced him to go out with Cor and some of the older Crownsguard. At least there was no frilly apron this time, and he’s  _ pretty _ sure he didn’t try to dance on any tables. Not that he can remember, at any rate. 

Opening his eyes is a  _ mistake _ . There’s barely any light peeking through the heavy curtains, but it  _ hurts _ . Best to keep them closed, then, because turning away from the window makes his head spin and his stomach lurch. Heavy footsteps, each one sending a new jolt of pain through his already aching head.

“Rise and shine, Iggy!” Gladio shouts, flinging the curtains open.

The speed with which he pulls the blanket up over his head defies how  _ dreadful _ he feels. It’s stuffy under the blanket, air quickly growing hot and stale. Good. Maybe he’ll suffocate himself and he won’t have to deal with everyone being disappointed in him. Isn’t the hangover enough punishment? Does he  _ really _ have to deal with this on top of it?

If he tries, he can hear them whispering angrily about it, but can’t be bothered to focus enough to make out the actual words. Them? He knows Gladio is in the room, would  _ hit _ Gladio if he thought he could function in the sunlight. Prompto? Probably Prompto. The tone says enough, though, and he knows they’re disappointed in him. Of course they are. He’s disappointed in himself, if he’s honest, knows this is the worst coping mechanism. 

The whispering ends, the door clicks softly shut, and footsteps fade down the hall. Good. Maybe they’ll just leave him alone with his terrible choices for the rest of the day.

There’s an almost  _ woosh _ sound in the direction of the window, a touch too mechanical to be a proper  _ woosh _ . Not enough metal to be a clank, too much metal to be a click. Swoosh? Not zippy enough. Swip? That’s not even a real  _ word _ . Zoop is too  _ fluid _ , zip is too  _ fast _ . Maybe he should just peel the blankets away from his face and find out the source of the noise. Is there someone else in the room? They’re being surprisingly quiet, apart from what he’s convinced now was the sound of the curtains closing. Thwip?

A weight settles onto the bed next to him, stretches out, disrupts the loop he’s stuck in.  _ Fine _ , he can peek out from under the blankets to find out what the hell is going on. Leave suffocating himself in his own shame for another time. It’s blessedly dark in the room, or at least as dark as it  _ can _ get in the middle of the day. Noct is laying next to him, keeping a good distance between them, being very obvious about  _ not touching _ . They’ve been very careful not to be alone together since that last day in Caem. The inches between them feel like miles.

“Gladio’s an ass,” Noct says, voice soft. “We told him not to do that.”

All he can do is hum a vague response, closing his eyes again. Maybe he can just… pretend Noct isn’t here. Pretend none of this is going horribly wrong, that he hasn’t made a series of terrible decisions over the last few weeks.

“Getting you back here was fun,” Noct says. “Thought you would fall in the canal. And  _ drown _ . Like an  _ idiot _ .”

“It’s hardly my fault they built a bar only accessible by boat,” he mutters.

“Yeah, but it  _ is _ your fault you drank that much.”

“Shut up.”

There’s no real heat behind his words, just  _ exhaustion _ . He would give just about anything at this point to stay in bed for the rest of the day, whatever it takes to ignore that they’re in Altissia and people still expect Noct -  _ his _ Noct - to marry Luna. It’s probably early afternoon, anyway. Would it really matter all that much if he just… didn’t do today? He can just stay here and pretend for one more day that Noct can be his, even if they can’t always touch and the thought of  _ kissing _ Noct makes him want to run and never look back.

“I… brought you some water,” Noct says, sitting up. “And painkillers. You should probably sit up first.”

Right. That’s a thing he’s eventually going to have to do, now that he’s clearly not going to get to stew in his own misery all day. Levering himself upright is a  _ process _ , one that starts his head spinning along with the pounding. For a brief minute, he’s convinced he’s going to pass out or throw up. Possibly both. Go big or go home, right? He’s already made a complete ass of himself, he might as well put the finishing touches on it.

The feeling passes, and whether he likes it or not, he’s sitting up. Noct presses a glass into his hand, holds out a couple pills. If Noct’s fingers linger a little too long after dropping them into his palm, neither of them is going to admit it. It’s almost  _ nice _ to have someone looking after him for a change. Even if he only needs looking after because he’s an utter  _ moron _ , and it’s entirely his fault this time.

Slowly, he shifts his way out of bed. He needs a  _ shower _ . This city is almost unbearably humid, but what did they expect from a place built on the water? He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, only his shoes and glasses missing. Even drunk, no one had wanted to risk undressing him. Shower. Right. He can manage that much.

  
@)-,-'--  
  


Specs looks  _ hilarious _ fresh out of the shower like this, with his hair plastered to his forehead and dripping water in his eyes. Noct stifles a laugh. Laughing won’t help Iggy feel any better. Maybe they should find him a barber soon. Or a decent pair of scissors. They  _ are _ in a proper city for a while, and it’s not like any pressing business is calling them away just yet. That would help, right?

Iggy looks like he just wants to crawl back into bed. He’s  _ miserable _ , but it looks like something other than just the hangover. It’s in the way his shoulders slump, eyes on the floor, how he still hasn’t made an attempt to  _ dry his hair _ , towel hanging uselessly around his neck.

Noct pats the bed next to him, hoping Iggy gets the point. All he gets is a sigh in response.

“Iggy. Come on. Sit down.”

Iggy won’t even  _ look _ at him, stays rooted to the floor by the bathroom. It feels like  _ forever _ before he finally moves, shuffles over to the bed. He sits as far from Noct as he can while still being  _ on _ the bed. Is he  _ shaking _ ? It’s… not  _ that _ cold in here. Is it? Noct shuffles his way closer to Iggy, staying a safe distance away. Just in case.

“Prom spent half the morning looking for a hangover cure,” Noct says. “Gladio’s been bitching about it  _ incessantly _ .”

Iggy hums a response, doesn’t flinch when Noct picks up the towel and starts drying his hair for him. Doesn’t react at  _ all _ , which is almost worse. Might as well take his time, then, since Iggy’s clearly not going to just  _ talk _ about what’s wrong.

“Seriously, Specs. You worried us. Worried  _ me _ . This isn’t like you.”

“I know,” Iggy says, barely whispering.

Iggy’s still  _ shaking _ . It’s hardly noticeable, but Noct has spent so much of his life  _ noticing _ Iggy that he can’t not see it. He’s thinking too much, probably using up what little brain power he has left after drowning it in liquor the night before. Iggy’s always thinking too much.

But right now Iggy just looks  _ broken _ , like everything bad that’s happened on this journey has been something he could’ve prevented. Noct drops the towel to the floor, a bit annoyed that it doesn’t get a reaction from Iggy. He shifts away before standing up again, trying to make the distance between them as obvious as possible.

“I can leave,” Noct says, “if you want to be alone?”

Iggy shakes his head, lays down properly. Noct sighs before picking up the towel. Specs may not mind it right now, but he’ll catch an earful if it’s still there later. He throws it into the bathroom, doesn’t particularly  _ care _ where it lands. It doesn’t matter. An attempt was made, even if it was half-assed.

He has no idea when Prom and Gladio will get back, and he hopes they’ll have the sense to call or something instead of just barging into the room if they need anything. Right now, he just wants to join Iggy in bed.

There’s barely a few inches between them as he drags the blankets up over them. Iggy’s eyes are closed, and Noct is briefly thankful Iggy can’t  _ see _ just how close they are. Not that it means he’s not aware of it. He’s probably more aware of it than Noct is, honestly. 

“Is this ok?” he whispers.

All he gets in response is a quiet hum. Iggy still looks  _ tired _ , but at least he doesn’t look like he’s going to throw himself into the canal. That’s worth something, right? Noct can do  _ something _ to help. His fingers trace Iggy’s cheekbone, drift up to find Iggy’s hair. It’s going to be  _ absurd _ when they get up later, sticking up at all angles. He’ll have to take a picture for Prom. Iggy might kill him for it, but it would be  _ worth it _ .

Iggy snores softly, and Noct stifles a yawn in return. Sleep sounds like a  _ great _ idea.

**Author's Note:**

> It might get better eventually, right?


End file.
